


The Farce

by niseag



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Consensual Non-Consent, F/M, Seduction, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25173850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niseag/pseuds/niseag
Summary: Leslie has never been this bold before. But it's fine. She can totally do this. She can totally seduce Ben Wyatt and get him to agree to fund her department.A smutty 3x01 Go Big or Go Home AU... with a twist.
Relationships: Leslie Knope/Ben Wyatt
Comments: 10
Kudos: 55





	The Farce

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mouseratstan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mouseratstan/gifts), [mysticalmultifandom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticalmultifandom/gifts).



> Before you go any further, please be aware that this fic has elements of consensual non-consent!
> 
> Written for the horny trinity with Gracie and Aly. <3

Leslie’s sitting at the bar, fiddling with the stirrer in her cocktail. She glances down at her watch, frowns, and casts a furtive look over her shoulder before returning to her drink, scraping the bit of plastic around the sugared rim of her glass.

She’s waiting for him.

She sucks her lower lip into her mouth and nibbles on it for a second before she remembers her lipstick—deep red, like her dress—and thinks better of it. She checks that it’s still all there in the dull reflection of her phone screen, then wakes her phone to check the time again.

He’s late.

Is he coming? He said he was coming.

Leslie shifts in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her ankles, adjusting the angle of her toes on the rim of the barstool. The sounds of clattering glass and gushing beer and shouts and murmurs and laughter all clash in the air until they become one loud and indistinct thrum, and Leslie is deaf to it, lost in her thoughts, in what’s got to be some kind of insanity. She’s bold and adventurous _—she’s Leslie Knope, after all—_ but she’s never exactly been this bold before. 

He’s going to come. She had asked him to meet her at the bar for a drink and he said he was going to come. It’s going to be fine.

She can do this. She can totally do this.

Leslie can seduce Ben Wyatt and get him to agree to fund her department.

His footsteps are indistinguishable from the din as he approaches the bar, but she sees him pull up the stool next to her and sit down. A flood relief and anticipation washes over her as she turns, smiling, and looks him up and down.

He looks exactly how she expected him to. He’s changed clothes since she saw him in the office earlier. Now he’s wearing pale blue plaid and his hair is a little less perky and a little more messy than it had been in the afternoon. He still hasn’t taken his windbreaker off.

Well, Leslie likes a challenge.

And even if he is the enemy, she admitted to herself quite some time ago that he is very attractive.

“You made it!” Leslie says as he settles into the seat next to her, hoping she sounds more confident than she feels about this grand experiment.

“Yeah.” He smiles apologetically for a second before he looks around for the bartender. “Sorry I’m late. Holdup at the Super Suites.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Yeah. Raccoons.” The bartender comes and takes Ben’s beer order, pulling a bottle from the fridge and sliding it across the bar. Ben turns back to Leslie, frowning a little. “You know, I’m still not entirely used to the raccoons. I kind of thought I’d be used to them by now.”

“Oh,” Leslie says, biting her lip, suddenly a little unsure about this all over again. “You’ve been here… how long, now?”

Ben runs his hand through his hair. “What, like… three months? I guess I’m still adjusting to Pawnee.”

Three months. Yeah. That’s right. Three long months of trying to destroy her department. Of going head to head in budget task force meetings and loud, tense conversations in empty hallways. Three months of battles that neither one of them ever ended up winning convincingly enough for the other to stay down for long.

It’s been a long time since Ben Wyatt walked into her department and threatened everything Leslie loves and there’s a hell of a lot between them these days.

She wonders how the night is going to turn out. If he wants to go where she plans to lead him, or if this is just drinks after work like any other day. If she’s going to have the heart to try this.

Ben takes a sip of beer and glances sidelong at Leslie as she toys with the stirrer in her drink. “Thanks for getting me out of the office, by the way,” he says with a genuine smile. “This is really cool of you, you know… considering.”

“Well, we’ve been spending a lot of time together,” Leslie says diplomatically. “It makes sense to get to know each other, right?”

He nods, angling towards her and propping his head up on his hand as he looks at her. “Right.”

She thought maybe he’d question it, show signs of suspicion. But there are none. He’s really sitting there regarding her with something that could almost pass for earnest liking, for a man who’s doing his best to be her professional downfall and all. There’s a swelling in Leslie’s chest that she pushes to the side, passes off as a surge of triumph.

“And you should see _some_ of the town while you’re here,” she continues. “It’s the best town in America. Possibly the world.”

“So I’ve heard,” he teases. Leslie casts her mind back to the summer task force meetings and she’s not sure she’d ever seen him look quite so at ease back then. Playful Ben is a novelty she hadn’t expected to encounter tonight.

“Pawnee is amazing,” she says, because it’s not possible to overstate the point. And then she hesitates, wonders if she should make small talk or make a move. There’s a smug little smile tucked into the corner of his mouth, like he has some thoughts on Pawnee he’s not willing to share, and Leslie decides to play with him—just a little.

Leslie takes a long sip of her cocktail, taking the straw into her mouth slowly and letting her eyes fall closed while she drinks, her cheeks hollowing and red lips tightening on the plastic. When she opens her eyes she sees Ben’s widen just the tiniest bit. Leslie pushes the straw back out of her mouth with her tongue, watching Ben’s throat tighten as he swallows hard. She licks her lips and swirls her glass in her hand and Ben blinks and looks down at the bar for a long moment before looking back up at her.

Leslie is pretty sure she has him on the hook.

“You’ll love the town,” she adds, deciding to tease him back a little, “even if you are kind of a fascist.” 

“Hey,” Ben protests, holding up his hands. “I thought I came here to have a friendly beer.”

Leslie nudges his arm. “Well who said we were _friends_?”

“Okay then. If that’s how you want to play it, then you’re kind of a pain in the ass.”

“Oh, really?” Leslie demands. She tosses her hair in a grand display of indignant bravado and shivers a little as it tickles the slope of her shoulders, barely brushing the skin. “Well, Chris said I’m lovely.”

“Yeah, sure. The Idi Amin comparison was especially charming.”

“It was deserved.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” He drums his beer bottle and looks at Leslie with a charged sort of skepticism, like he is trying to figure her out. “Well, you shouldn’t brag so much about gutting everything if you don’t wanna be called the butcher of Pawnee,” she says. “You’ve been _very_ Aminish, actually, and I think it’s very big of me to invite you out for a beer. I think I should get a little credit.”

“Oh.” Ben frowns. “Right. Well, if it’s such an imposition...” He raises an eyebrow and pushes his half-full beer bottle away, moving to stand.

Crap on a croissant. She’s only teasing—well, mostly teasing.

“Wait!” Leslie says, reaching for his arm, catching him. “Wait, Ben, I’m kidding. I’m kidding!”

He looks down at her hand on his forearm and grins. He sits back down, laughing to himself a little. “I know. So am I.”

“Oh.” Leslie blinks. “Yeah, I knew that.”

Is it possible that Ben is actually flirting with her? She hadn’t expected this to be so easy.

Ben settles and drains the last of his beer, setting the empty bottle down with a hollow, final thud. Then he stands up fully, and for half a second Leslie thinks he might be about to leave for real, but he just twists and stretches with his arms in the air, shirt coming a little untucked from his khakis and exposing just a tiny bit of his stomach. She stares at his pale skin dusted with dark hair, biting her lip.

She has to remind herself that he’s supposed to be the enemy here. He’s trying to cut her budget, destroy her programs, stunt her career. All of that. She’s not _actually_ supposed to want him.

She knows this is kind of a terrible idea. Because Leslie Knope, Deputy Director of Parks and Recreation in the city of Pawnee absolutely should not be seducing or sleeping with Ben Wyatt, budget specialist and auditor for the state of Indiana.

If anyone she knows overhears them talking like this and puts the pieces together, it will be absolutely mortifying. She can imagine Ron lecturing her now, like he has before when she’s been caught doing similarly reckless things.

She shakes her head to clear her thoughts, but it doesn’t help. Her hair is just long enough that it brushes the back of her neck and when she shivers again from the sensation, she imagines Ben making her shudder rather than a tickle and a rush of cool air. She imagines his hands twisting through her hair later tonight if she can get him to come home with her.

This is a game. And it’s not.

Leslie sips the last of her cocktail and sets the glass back down on the bar, tapping the base of it with a fingernail. She raises her eyes to Ben’s and finds him looking at her like he’s waiting for her to say something.

But Leslie just smiles and raises an eyebrow. His move. She’s got to find out how into this he is. So she can work out where they stand right now, what to do next.

Ben scratches the back of his head and puts his hands in his pockets, looking down at her expectantly. “So.”

Leslie licks her lip. “So.”

He hesitates for a moment, still waiting for her, and when Leslie says nothing Ben finally jerks a thumb over his shoulder, tilting his head in the same direction. There are some low, soft couches near the fire. “Uh, do you wanna get another drink and sit over there or something? These stools kind of suck.”

Leslie looks up at him through her eyelashes. “Okay,” she says, standing. “Yeah. Sure.” She smooths her hands over her perfectly fitted dress and she doesn’t miss Ben’s eyes following their path down her body, over her waist and her hips and down to the tops of her thighs.

“What are you drinking?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I just asked for something sugary.”

Ben sighs and scratches his head, looking at her with something a lot like fondness. “Of course you did.”

***

Their second round of drinks goes down more easily than the first, and the third round more easily than the second.

It’s warm in here.

Ben has finally shed his windbreaker and now there’s only Leslie’s dress and the thin fabric of his shirt between the two of them as they sit close together on the couch. She can feel his chest rise and fall as he breathes next to her and as she watches the glow of the fire flickering in the reflection of his eyes and she can’t help but think, not for the first time and not for the last, that he’s really very handsome.

They trade stories back and forth like they’re swapping baseball cards or marbles. Ben talks about all the different times he’s been run out of towns much like Pawnee and Leslie tells him about some of her more controversial career moments. When she tells him about the gay penguin wedding and the media chaos that followed, Ben just hums and says, “Penguin wedding. That’s cute.”

“Yes!” Leslie grins and nods so forcefully that hair falls into her face as Ben watches her with amusement. “It was so cute!”

“I’m sure it was,” he smiles. Then he’s reaching up and his fingers are brushing her cheek as he pushes the hair back behind her ear. Her breath stills in her chest and he’s close now, very close, looking down at her with something dark and querying and a little bit hesitant. His thumb is still resting on her cheek, fingers loosely curled against her neck. 

Leslie blinks and tries to collect herself. She drops her gaze from his eyes, only to land on his lips as he licks them nervously. She looks back up and his eyes are on _her_ lips now and he’s inches away—no, less, he’s closer than that—he’s close enough that she’s lost in the fog of his breath warm on her face, close enough that all she’d have to do is tilt her head just so and they’d be kissing.

She closes her eyes and closes the distance, pressing her lips to his. His breath hitches and his fingers stiffen against her skin. He freezes for long enough that Leslie worries she’s somehow misjudged—even though he leant in, even though he’s looking at her like that—and she begins to pull away, but Ben runs his hand around the back of her neck, pulling her back. He sighs into her mouth as he kisses her, holding her as if he half expects her to bolt.

But Leslie started this, and she’s not going anywhere. 

She thought kissing him here might be like being at war. Like the battles they had in the task force meeting room, like coming so close to connection and always seeming to clash. But there’s something reserved in it, something careful and withholding that’s alien and far removed from the stern, irritable Ben she’d grown used to over the summer.

Ben presses his hand into her hair, holding her close as his kisses deepen and he begins to lead her. It occurs to her that this isn’t right. She’s supposed to be leading, she’s the one with the roadmap and the plan and the goal. She runs her hands up his arms, feeling a deep rush of heat as she touches muscles you’d never guess he might have had. He looks so skinny, but he’s not. Not really. She can feel his biceps, the way his shoulders are rounded and perfectly sculpted under his shirt, and all thoughts of the Parks budget fly from her mind. She just wants to get this shirt off him.

Ben’s other hand goes to her hip, anchoring her and pulling her closer both at once and Leslie goes with him only to climb into his lap, running her hands up into his hair and tightening her fingers in it. It’s so thick and so soft. He groans into her mouth as she settles down on top of him, torso pressed to his, straddling him and feeling the hardness and the heat in his pants against her. His fingers dig into her hip, tighten in her hair, and Leslie sighs against his mouth, pressing her tongue against his lower lip until he gives way to her. The feeling of him beneath her, hot and hard, makes her so giddy she almost forgets that they’re doing this in public, on a couch.

Completely unbidden, the image of Ron behind a desk that isn’t his giving her a lecture about impropriety comes flooding back to her. Leslie pulls away from Ben, gasping. He’s gazing up at her with a look that could melt steel. 

“Do you wanna get out of here?” she breathes.

“Yeah.” Ben nods. “Yes.”

***

Leslie’s first thought when she steps into Ben’s hotel room is that it’s a lot nicer than she thought it would be. It’s the Super Suites, after all, but the room is large and there’s a king bed and from her brief glance at the bathroom she’s pretty sure there’s a spa bath in there with jets and everything. 

She doesn’t have time to dwell on it, because no sooner than Ben has followed her into the room, thrown his windbreaker down on top of the overnight bag on the luggage holder and closed the door behind them, he’s pushing Leslie up against it and kissing her hard. Leslie doesn’t protest. She just grabs his shirt and pulls him closer, hands roaming the flat plane of his chest and the unassuming muscles of his abdomen. She tugs at his shirt and pushes up under it, exploring the contours of his skin, appreciating the firmness of him, the quiet strength in his body.

His hands tighten on her waist as she palms his chest, kissing down her jaw and her neck, sucking on her pulse point. She moans and catches his earlobe between her teeth, drawing a long, deep sigh from him as his fingers dig into her waist.

When Leslie finally brings her fingers to the knot of his tie it’s like she’s flipped some sort of switch. Suddenly Ben breaks the kiss and pulls away sharply, and Leslie can feel waves of hot, ragged breath on her neck as he leans in again, movements measured and firm. He swallows and pulls her closer still, voice low at her ear as he murmurs, “I know what you’re doing, Leslie.” He says it like it’s a casual observation, but the heat of his breath and the tightness of his fingers tell her it’s anything but casual.

Leslie freezes. Her breath hitches and her hands tighten on his shirt, cool silver pressing against her finger. She really thought she was about to get away with it.

“What are you talking about?” she says, heart racing, faltering under his iron gaze.

Ben steps back from her, just out of her reach, holding her back by the shoulders. “I have a theory,” he says. “Tell me if I’m wrong.” Leslie tries her best to meet his eye as he bears down on her with a stern look. “Whatever this is—” he gestures between them with one hand, the other still on her shoulder “—is some sort of ploy for you to get extra funding. It’s some kind of farce.”

“I—of course you’re wrong! This has nothing to do with the Parks Department!”

“I think it does.”

“Are you seriously accusing me of trying to sleep with you for—for department funding?” Leslie hisses. “That’s sexist, and _wrong_ …” she says, shaking his hand off her. “I’ve never had sex with anyone, ever—” that’s not true and even Ben knows it “—and how do I know, frankly, that you’re not trying to sleep with _me_ so I’ll let you cut my department? Maybe you are. Maybe you’re trying to seduce me!” 

Ben shakes his head darkly. “Stop it, Leslie. You’re not that good at being sneaky.”

“Yes, I am!” she insists.

“No, you’re not. Clearly you’re not.” Ben looks down at her and something shifts behind his eyes, molten brown now as he searches her. He sets his lips in a mirthless smile and brings his hands to her hips, pulling her towards him again. “I just didn’t know you were such a slut,” he says. His derision is searing.

Leslie’s eyes widen, her heart quickens and she swallows hard. She tries to pull back to look at him, to protest, but Ben anchors her in place with his touch and his breath so close to her lips. She sways, lightheaded, though she couldn’t say if it’s the adrenaline or the alcohol or something else entirely, something to do with the way every inch of her feels hot and alive. He doesn’t grab her, doesn’t hold her still. He only moves his hands from her hips, running them over the curve of her ass and pressing into the small of her back with open palms.

Slowly, Ben turns her and backs her into the room, towards the bed and away from the door.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“I have no idea!” Leslie exclaims, nerves building. “If you think I’m just trying to get money, why did you go out with me in the first place? Why did you kiss me back?” Ben keeps them moving until she’s backed against the bed, clutching at his arms and digging her nails in to keep from falling on to it. “What are you _doing_?”

“I guess I didn’t think you’d really go through with it,” he says with some bitterness.

“So, what? You… you what?” Leslie trails off and shrugs helplessly, unsure of where she’s going with this or where he might be headed. She searches his eyes for answers but is met with a dull wooden wall.

Ben raises an eyebrow. “So I wanted to see how far you’d go,” he says flatly. Ben sighs. “Pretty far, by the looks of it.”

Leslie doesn’t deny it. She’s pretty sure they’re past that. He caught her—he’d had her all along, he’d strung _her_ along for the ride, and now she’s at his mercy. “And what are we doing now?”

Ben draws her close, close enough that she can feel him hard against her belly, and murmurs into her ear. “Get on your knees.”

_“What?”_

“Get on your knees and suck my cock.”

“ _Ben—_ ”

“That’s what you were planning to do, wasn't it? Suck my cock like a little whore?”

“I…” She tries to find the words to tell him he’s wrong, but she can’t. Because he isn’t. He isn’t wrong at all. 

“So do it.”

Trembling, Leslie pulls back. She sets her chin and looks at him defiantly, meeting his hard stare with one of her own. “No.”

“Yes.”

Leslie’s all too aware of his fingers pressing into her back, of the hardness of his cock pressed up against her stomach, of the mounting, molten ache inside her. But she has her pride.

“No. I won’t.”

“Yes, you will. Unless you want me to tell the city manager that one of his department heads is whoring herself out to the state budget office.” 

Fuck. _Fuck._

Leslie swallows and grits her teeth. “You wouldn’t.”

Ben only raises an eyebrow. He could. He could do it. He could have the city manager fire her tonight, probably right now, if he wanted.

He has her backed into a corner and he knows it. Leslie bites her lip hard, looking steadily at him. “I hate you.”

“I thought you kind of liked me, actually,” he says. “Even if everything else was all pretense.”

Leslie winces, trying to pull away only for Ben to catch her by the arms. “You’re a such a fucking jerk.”

“Well?” Ben says, expectant, fingers pressing into her.

Leslie growls and glares at fiercely as she blindly reaches for his belt, yanking harshly at the end of the leather and freeing it from the buckle. She doesn’t take her eyes off him as she works the button and the zip of his khakis and pulls them from his hips, or as she sinks to the ground and tugs them down his legs, poised in front of the bulge in his underwear.

She scowls at him, keeping her eyes on his as she pulls his leaking cock from his underwear and brings it to her mouth, licking the slit of his head and drawing a long, angry moan from Ben. She smirks with satisfaction as his eyes roll shut and his head falls back and takes him in deeper until she can feel him pressing against the back of her throat. She swallows and catches his eye wickedly for the briefest moment before he groans again, twitching and gasping. Leslie pulls back for a moment, just long enough for him to open his eyes and lean down, surely about to make demands or more threats, and then she’s back on him at full force, twisting her tongue around him in hot spirals and lapping at the head of his cock as if she’s done this a thousand times before. He begins to jerk and shudder and his moans grow louder and Leslie almost, _almost_ has him cumming in her mouth when Ben places his hand under her jaw, pressing into the soft flesh near her throat with a thumb.

“Stop,” he says. “Now. Stand up.”

She stands, having little choice in the matter with his hand on her throat, and Ben pulls her close. His cock brushes her belly though her dress, heightening the ache inside her. He cups her face, thumbs still firm on the sides of her throat, and kisses her deep and rough and hard, pushing his tongue into her mouth and tasting his own cock on her, taking her. Leslie whimpers as he bites at her lower lip with sharp teeth, feels herself trembling as Ben moves one hand from her throat to her breast, taking its fullness in his palm. She moans into his mouth, pressing against him.

His hand travels from her breast down the curve of her stomach, taking in the dip of her waist and the contour of her hip. His fingers wander lazily to the hem of her dress where it clings to the swell of her thigh and as he brushes his fingers over her bare leg and it takes everything in her not to shudder at his touch.

And then he pulls away. He looks her up and down like he’s deciding what to do with her next, contemplating different strategies and tactics and Leslie reflects that she might have been wrong, earlier, when she thought being with him like this wasn’t like fighting a war.

Something snaps into place behind Ben’s eyes and he takes a step back, raking over her body with his gaze. “Take your panties off.”

Leslie squares herself, summoning all the dignity she has left to defy him yet again. “Or what? You’ll have the city manager fire me?”

Ben smirks.

“God, you’re an ass.”

“Take them off, Leslie.”

“No.”

“Leslie.”

“I said no.”

“I don’t care.”

“Make me.”

“Take them off or I will.”

Leslie purses her lips and leers at him. “Fine.”

Without breaking eye contact, Leslie finds the waistline of her panties through her dress and shifts them down her hips, careful not to lift the hem enough to give him an ounce of satisfaction more than he’s forcing her to. She shimmies them down her thighs and steps out of them, balling them up in her fist. 

Ben holds out his hand. “Give them to me.”

Glowering, Leslie drops her panties into his waiting hand and Ben’s eyes widen as he rubs the lace between his fingers. “You’re already wet.”

She sighs irritably, frustrated that he noticed, impatient about having to wait for whatever he intends to do next. “What do you want, Ben?”

Ben licks his lips, putting her panties to the side. He steps towards her, putting himself between Leslie and her underwear as if he suspected she might have tried to take them back. He runs his hand down her body, down her thigh, down to the hem of her dress. He lingers there, fingers ghosting at her inner thigh for a moment before he skirts up above the hem, working his way up slowly, deliberately towards her aching cunt. His touch is light but firm and Leslie’s legs begin to shake as he draws closer.

Leslie swallows hard, trembling as he finally brushes her outer lips and parts them with two fingers, pushing in to find her slick and soaked.

Ben blinks, looking up from his hand to Leslie’s face, suddenly a different person altogether. “Good lord,” he says, shocked. “Leslie. You’re… you’re seriously into this.”

Goddammit. Leslie covers her face with her hands, a little exasperated that of all the times he could have broken—at the bar, when he’d called her a slut, all the city manager bravado—this would have to be the one.

 _“Ben,”_ she whines, pouting. “That’s the point.”

He looks at her with wonder, scratching his head with his other hand while the first still lingers at her entrance. “I just… Okay. Okay.”

“Keep going!”

“Okay. Sorry, sorry.”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head, recomposing himself, and when he looks at her again the hardness is back. Leslie smiles a little, encouraging him. 

Ben swallows. “Jesus,” he says, looking down at her. “You’re so fucking wet. You really are a little slut.”

Leslie whimpers as he pushes two fingers inside her, hooking her by the cunt and pulling her helplessly towards him. When he has her flush against her, he pulls his fingers from her, dragging them hard over her clit. She lets out a strangled noise that’s half a yelp, half a moan as Ben circles around her, coming to stand at her back.

“What are you doing?”

He places his hands on her shoulders, thumbs brushing the bare skin of her neck and Leslie hopes he doesn’t notice how she shivers at his touch. He leans in over her shoulder, mouth just a fraction of an inch from her ear and he murmurs, “I’m going to take your dress off, and then I’m going to fuck you like the desperate whore you are, Leslie.”

Leslie can’t help it. She shudders violently as his warm breath brushes her ear and he moves his hand to the zipper of her dress, pulling it down slowly as he runs his right hand down the soft, bare skin of her back as the dress falls open. He trails his fingers over her with a touch so light it leaves her quivering.

Ben drops his head to the crook of her neck and rests his lips on her skin with an unusual kind of tenderness as he peels the dress from her body and drops it to the floor.

The hotel room’s air conditioning blows cold and leaves Leslie with chills as it breezes over her naked flesh. Ben puts his hands on her belly, drawing her closer to him and she finds herself going willingly towards the warmth of his body. Her nipples harden—whether from the cold or from his touch, it’s impossible to say. He runs his hands over her stomach and trails them over the outline of her ribs, pausing for a moment just under her breasts before he takes them in his hands, cupping them perfectly. Leslie can’t help but moan as the heat of his touch sinks into her, warming her at every point of contact between them and welling deep inside her.

She can feel his cock against her ass as he steps forward, forcing her to move with him until she collapses face down on the bed with Ben standing over her. He grips her waist and tugs, pulling her to the edge of the bed. Leslie moans as he smooths his hands over her ass and down her thighs, parting her legs and leaving her exposed to him. The cool air almost aches against the heat of her cunt, throbbing with how much she needs him to touch her.

“Stay put.” Ben growls, taking his hands off her. He’s gone only long enough to strip his shirt off, but in that time Leslie crawls to her knees and turns around, defiant.

“No.”

Freeing the last button, Ben shrugs his shirt off and comes back, grabbing her by the shoulder and pushing her back down. “Would you just do what you’re told for once in your life?”

“No.” Leslie pushes back, trying to gain traction against him, but it’s futile. He really is well-muscled and he holds her down with ease. She growls and struggles anyway, but Ben moves her as easily as if she were a doll. He pulls her hips from the bed and spreads her legs, finding her clit and pressing down on it until Leslie wails, and then he positions himself at her entrance and thrusts into her hard and fast.

Leslie cries out, gripping the bed covers until her knuckles whiten.

She screws her eyes shut and grunts as Ben fucks her with a single minded determination, driving into her over and over again like it’s all he’ll ever do for the rest of his life.

Leslie aches for him to touch her but there’s no way in hell she’s giving him the satisfaction of knowing it, so she just squeezes her eyes shut and whimpers and prays.

As if he can read her mind, predict her desires, Ben leans down over her, hot against her back. “Is there something you wanted, Leslie?” he growls.

She whines, not wanting to admit it and not wanting to deny it either.

“Are you enjoying this? Do you like being fucked like a useless slut?”

Leslie grits her teeth and growls low in her throat.

“Maybe you want this,” he says, reaching around and pressing his hand to her clit, holding still and letting the force of his thrusts drive Leslie against his fingers.

She lets out a moan so deep and animal that it almost scares her and she feels Ben bear down on her, chest pressing against her back and breath hot on the nape of her neck.

“Is this what you wanted?”

She writhes under him as he pounds into her, driving her up against his fingers over and over—and it’s perfect, it’s just right, she thinks she’s going to lose her entire mind. Leslie bites down on her own wrist to muffle a scream.

“Say it. Say you wanted this. You wanted me to fuck you like this all along.”

It’s not even defiance that keeps her from admitting it, it’s the way her body is on fire, the thrill of being ravaged, the feel of his cock inside her and his hand on her clit driving her into madness. When she doesn’t comply, Ben pulls out.

Leslie gasps, furious. _“Ben—_ ”

“Say you wanted this.”

She looks over her shoulder, appalled. He’s holding his throbbing cock in his hand, smirking at her. God, she could kill him. “I wanted this,” she gasps in some sort of disbelief. “I wanted this,” she says again. “I wanted this. I wanted this. Are you happy?” she whines, aching at his absence from her, needing him to fill her again. “Will you just fucking fuck me, Ben?”

“Be quiet.”

He thrusts into her again harder, faster than before. Leslie groans.

_“Be quiet.”_

“Make me,” she gasps.

“Fine.” Ben puts a hand on her shoulder, pressing her back into the bed as he pushes himself off of her again, ignoring her cry of protest at being left empty once more. He pulls away, standing, leaving her empty and aching for him for a moment before he returns to the bed with her panties in hand. He puts one knee on the bed and leans over, propping himself up with one arm while he presses his thumb to her lower lip. Ben forces her mouth open and he stuffs the coarse, damp fabric inside, muffling her cry of protest. “There. Now you’ll be quiet.”

She stares up at him with wide eyes, trying to push the panties out of her mouth but failing to get enough leverage with her tongue to shift them. Leslie growls deep in her throat and Ben only smirks. He climbs back off the bed, grabs her by the hips and pulls, lining her cunt up with his cock again before he thrusts into her like he’d never left, this time bringing his hand around to cradle her mound and rub her clit as he fucks her. He holds Leslie down by the shoulder and she shudders at the sensation of cool metal pressing into her skin as he quickens his pace. His fingers dance in circles and leaps around her clit, finding a rhythm that’s halfway to a jig and keeps her on edge, still moaning through the lacy gag in her mouth.

He’s relentless, pounding against her harder and harder until finally Leslie breaks in shuddering waves around him, vision blurring and crying out in a long, muffled wail with all the air left in her lungs. Ben isn’t far behind, collapsing on top of her in a breathless, heaving heap.

They lie there together in a quiet daze for a moment before Ben rolls off her, lying beside her and running a couple of fingers over her arm in soft circles. Leslie blinks at him lazily, smiling a strange little smile with a mouth that won’t quite close.

“Honey?”

“Mm?” she murmurs.

Ben looks at her curiously, tilting his head and gesturing at her mouth. “Do you need help?” It’s a second before Leslie’s eyes widen with understanding. The panties. He means the panties. She opens her mouth and pulls them out, flinging them across the room, and curls herself around to him as the post-orgasm fog begins to clear.

“Holy fuck babe,” Leslie says, looking at Ben with wide, starry eyes, grinning like she’s seen the face of god. “That was… that was _hot.”_

“Yeah?”

 _“Yeah,_ ” Leslie says, nodding feverishly, moving to lie on his chest. “The city manager stuff was super hot.”

Ben drops a kiss on the top of her head and loops an arm around her shoulders, running his fingers up and down her upper arm. “Good. I thought it was a nice touch.”

“It was. God, you’re a sexy man genius.”

Ben hums in appreciation and runs his hand through her hair as they lie in peaceful silence. After a while, Leslie tilts her head up to look at him.

“I thought you weren't going to show, you know,” Leslie admits. “I was nervous.”

Ben squeezes her arm apologetically. “I should’ve texted. There really were raccoons here.”

Leslie giggles. “I couldn’t tell if you were in character or not when you said that.”

“Nope, real raccoons. They were in my old room when I checked into it, so I had to wait while they did the upgrade or whatever.”

“Huh. See, sometimes the raccoons are on our side.”

“Yeah, I don’t really think so.”

Leslie laughs again and buries her head against his chest, enjoying the feeling of being in a big fancy hotel room for the night, doing insanely hot things with her sexy husband. She thinks vaguely that they should probably try out that spa bath at some point.

But that can wait. For now, they fall back into an easy, hazy silence punctuated with gentle touches and lazy kisses. 

“Ben?” Leslie says after a while, smiling conspiratorially.

“Mm?” 

“Do you think the city manager would really fire me if he found out I had sex with you?”

Ben pushes a strand of hair from Leslie’s eyes, smiling down at her. “Eh,” he says noncommittally, moving his hand in a way that could be a yes or a no as he pretends to consider it. “Could go either way. But you could probably sleep with him to keep him quiet.”

Leslie laughs.

“I might have to try that.” 

“Yeah,” Ben grins, “you know, you probably should.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Gracie for betaing - you beautiful, talented, athletic starfish. <3


End file.
